


Heart to the Wire

by Helix



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Horse Racing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:38:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helix/pseuds/Helix
Summary: Sword of Damocles is the finest racehorse Lexa has ever owned. He's got the pedigree and the talent but unfortunately has recently grown so unruly he's unrideable most of the time and unpredictable the rest of it. She refuses to give up on him however knowing her future in the sport depends on him. In somewhat of a Hail Mary, the horse is sent to a trainer with many skeptics due to her youthful age and her gender.Clarke Griffin has a way with horses and a natural talent for training but hasn't been given much of any chances with quality bloodstock; this may be her sole opportunity to prove her mettle and suddenly this horse represents high stakes not just for Lexa but for Clarke... and a third player. Octavia a regular exercise rider for Clarke and an aspiring jockey is in the same situation, an ambitious woman in a world still dominated by men, often met with skepticism and having to work five times as hard, due to her gender and her taller than the average height for a jockey.3 women whose hopes and dreams are now intimately entwined as they rest on the back of one horse... A colt who can bring them together and carry their dreams across the finish line, or send them crashing down and trample them to dust.





	1. Chomping at the Bit

**Author's Note:**

> Currently Not rated because there will be explicit smut in later chapters but I don't know in how many chapters that will be. A racing jargon glossary will be provided in notes at the end of the chapter. This is my first attempt at writing a multichapter fic in many, many years but I felt a strong urge and inspiration to write this.

There was a peacefulness at this time of day down the backside that was hard to define - it wasn’t borne from stillness, far from it. Activity was already rising, one step ahead of the sun, the sound of shod hooves clopping against the cement floors of the shedrow as horses were brought out of their stalls by their grooms who tended to them meticulously, preparing them to train, or even race in some cases. Perhaps it was exactly that - the mixture of routine and lively sounds, voices that at times spoke reassuringly to a nervous animal, or scolded a mischievous one. Routine without monotony, she decided with a smile. 

It also was in fact the perfect time of day to come and observe the ongoings and management of these precious equine athletes. Trainers did not expect owners this early in the morning, and were more prone to displaying their true colours. Not that they all were two-faced, but it wasn’t always easy to know until you were intimately acquainted with them, which ones were straightforward and honest, versus the ones who espoused the belief that “owners should be treated like mushrooms - kept in the dark and fed bullshit”. And while she wasn’t a long-time established owner with a storied legacy in racing, she was far more knowledgeable about thoroughbred care and training than most owners new to the game, were. She was therefore determined not to be left at the gate, especially not when her future in racing depended on this horse. 

A horse who took her breath away even now as he stood in the creeping light of the rising sun, his chestnut coat and flaxen mane both shimmering with a glimmer akin to gold. He was posing with his head held high and the look of eagles as he gazed into the distance at worlds unseen by the common of mankind. His four white socks and the blade-shaped blaze on his forehead had always made him an eye-catching specimen right from the start. 

“Are you lost?”

The question yanked her out of contemplation and she zoned in on a blonde woman who had previously been standing on the other side of the horse. 

“No, this is my horse. I’m looking for Clarke Griffin?”

The woman gave her the once over, looking somewhat surprised before she articulated an answer.

“You’re speaking with her. You must be Miss Lexa Woods, then.”

It was Lexa’s turn to look surprised. Her manager had helped her find this trainer but had failed to notify her that said trainer was a woman and a very young looking one at that. Not that gender mattered, it was just unexpected. Especially seeing her tending to the horse instead of getting a groom to do it. In all fairness judging by the expression on Clarke’s face, Lexa wasn’t what she had pictured either. She reached a hand out which was taken and squeezed in a firm shake.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Not to sound indelicate but you’re not what I had in mind. It’s rare I meet owners so young.”

“I could say the same thing about you, coach. “

Clarke cracked a smile, feeling a little more relaxed. She usually was on her guard around owners, especially at first, but Ms Woods certainly seemed sympathetic.

“That and I don’t think I’ve ever worked with a trainer who does the groom’s work before.” 

“I’m sure he’s been checked for aches and pains already but I prefer a hands-on approach with the horses I train. Especially a case like this… I want to know him myself. Where and how he likes being touched, where he doesn’t. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

If she were honest, she’d never had a runner of this calibre before and knew all too-well that she couldn’t fuck up. This was her chance to show the racing world what she could do. There were too few women working in this sport still largely dominated by men and unfortunately it meant not being taken seriously. People didn’t give her their expensive, talented, blue-blooded stock. Sure she was appreciated by every day workers, other trainers and horse owners alike, she was capable of making friends. She had a couple of horses of course, just enough to break even and keep her training business afloat. People would send her their low level claimers and allowance horses because they liked her enough to keep her employed though, not because they believed in her. Success with this colt was crucial for her, she may not ever get another chance to break through the training ranks and into the upper echelons.

“I was told you had some unorthodox approaches. Whatever works, I just want to get this boy to reach his full potential.”

The colt stamped his foot against the pavement as if demanding attention and Lexa reached over to stroke his neck. He snorted and turned his head to look at her for an instant before his focus wandered to something else, satisfied at being doted on. She’d gotten lucky, or so she had thought, in spite of the fact she’d gone way over her budget to acquire this colt. But he was proving that his name, Sword of Damocles, had been a bit of a self-inflicted curse. She’d named him so for the marking on his face not thinking of just how powerful a name could be. It wasn’t as if he were a dud - he showed a tremendous amount of brilliance early on in his career as a 2 year old, winning his first start by a gobsmacking 18 lengths, and his second start in stakes record time. She’d started to fantasize of the future, as every owner of a talented 2yo colt does, hoping to enter him in the year end Championship race. Then suddenly, he was like an entirely different animal. She’d tried every trainer she could afford and that was willing to take him on. They’d all failed, but she was daring to dream again in that instant. Seeing Clarke so determined to learn about her horse gave her hope.

“I take it you’d like to stay and watch him? I assume you didn’t fly all the way out to California from the East Coast just to say hi.”

“You don’t happen to have a psychic gig on the side, do you Ms Griffin?”

Okay, fine in spite of her statuesque exterior and mostly impassible features, Lexa probably did have a witty sense of humour, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel herself beginning to like her. 

“I’d be cashing in at the betting windows if I did!”

“You may amuse me yet, Ms Griffin.”

“Well if I ever try stand-up, I’ll put you on my resumé as a referral.” 

It was Lexa’s turn to smile this time, though she stepped back to allow Clarke the necessary space to throw on the saddle cloth and saddle as well as fasten the girth. She noticed the trainer omitted blinkers as she slipped the bridle on, but didn’t say anything, preferring to quietly observe and see what her new trainer would do. She liked the way her hands moved with assurance, nothing brisk or hesitant about her gestures and she felt her cheeks flush the slightest bit at the observation. The colt childishly toyed with his bit nodding his head up and down which earned another laugh from Clarke’s slightly husky voice. It was easy to forget he was technically still very much a baby. Although officially all thoroughbreds aged up on the 1st of January, most of these freshly minted 3 year olds biologically wouldn’t turn 3 until February, sometimes as late as May. And anyway, 3 was still very far from full maturity for an equine.

Just as they began walking out of the shedrow, a young woman with dark hair and bright eyes wearing a riding vest with a helmet under her arm walked up to them.

“So what’s the plan today, boss? Just walk him around the track like yesterday?” 

“Good morning to you too, Octavia.”

“Did you want a croissant and a latte with that?”

The mischievous smirk and Clarke’s laugh made it clear to Lexa this was normal, friendly banter between the two.

“No but before you get on, I’d like you to meet someone. Octavia this is Lexa Woods she’s Damocles’s owner. And Ms Woods, this is Octavia Blake, my best rider.”

“Please, call me Lexa. Both of you.”

She wondered for a moment if she’d regret this level of familiarity, but she felt weird knowing these two women were around her age and so casual with one another in spite of their working relationship. It made her feel like the odd one out, and frankly she didn’t want them to think she was a newbie to racing or the the way it worked.

“Lexa it is, then. Nice to meet’cha.”

They shook hands sealing the introduction before Clarke spoke up again, addressing Octavia as they walked.

“So after yesterday’s walk around the track I was thinking we could do the same thing but build off from it. I want you to walk him around the track once, clockwise then jog him another turn. At which point we’ll try to gallop him, counter-clockwise. Depending on how he does we may finally get to actually work him out and see what he’s made of.”

“Ya hear that boy? You ready to show us why you think you’re such a big deal?”

The colt snorted in response and arched his neck, prancing on the ends of his hooves as if to respond that he _knew_ he was a big deal. Octavia’s tone was playful, but the teasing was mostly to mask her own excitement. While female exercise riders were common, few of them managed to find success as a jockey. It didn’t help that she was a little taller than the average jock, male or female, in spite of still being pint-sized to the rest of the world. Clarke gave her horses to ride, and she often did her best to network as well as find success in the winner’s circle, but she’d yet to find a trainer to give her the mount on real stakes horses, let alone compete at the listed and graded stakes level. If she and Clarke could figure out this horse he could turn out to be her own big break. 

Lexa watched as the rider was hoisted into the saddle. The two women were an unusual duo to be sure but she liked what she saw so far, both of their partnership and their relation to the horse. Still, she couldn’t help but to think they likely were now a trio of connections that would stand out and she knew tongues would be wagging soon enough in the racing world, especially if they got anywhere with their unruly steed.

“If he fights you and tries to trot while walking him, let him go a few strides then pull him back. Don’t fight him constantly. If you need a pony to keep him walking just radio me I’ll send you someone.”

“Alright Griffin, see you on the flip side.”

“Ride safe, Octa-go.”

“Maybe you should tell _him_ that. Just as a reminder.” 

In spite of the cheeky reply, Octavia winked at Clarke and gave her the thumbs up before walking onto the dirt track. Clarke let out a slight sigh, she worried for her friend sometimes. While being a talented rider and often being patient with the horses, she had about the same amount of fight and spirit as the colt they were trying to train and she sometimes got herself in risky situations. Clarke gestured for Lexa to follow her towards the grand stand so they could get a full view of the track. 

The air was refreshing yet warm enough to get by in jeans and a t-shirt. No wonder west coast racing was booming - who wanted to be on the cold, damp East Coast in January when they could instead be in Los Angeles? The Florida circuit was of course a great place to be in the winter as well, but Lexa had exhausted her options and in the end, Indra had found someone in southern California. The colours of the sunrise were glowing against the peak of the mountains that served as the backdrop to Santa Anita Park, but the mountains were the last thing on Lexa’s mind as they sat down. She was looking at Clarke, in fact and the way strands of her hair floated easy in the morning breeze, glossy and gleaming as they caught the light just right. She blushed slightly as she caught herself staring at the way Clarke’s features seemed drawn into an intense yet thoughtful expression every time she lowered her binoculars. Lexa promptly looked away as soon as the trainer’s walkie-talkie crackled to life.

“He’s very eager coach.”

“How’d you feel him?”

“He uh tried fightin’ for his head when we were walking so I let him trot for a few strides before taking him back. I suggested rather than asked, tried to make him believe it was his own idea. I also think yesterday’s walk around the track helped cement the notion. Jog was a different story though he’s full of himself and aching to run, I can tell.”

“Yeah I saw when he reared up in the beginning. You did well to stay on. Listen, try to turn him around and gallop him. If he gives you trouble, turn his head to make him face the rail until he focuses on you. I’ll radio you if I want you to let him run. ”

“Roger that, Griffin.”

Lexa followed horse and rider with her own binoculars for a moment watching as Octavia shortened her stirrups and stood up before turning the chestnut colt around and asking him to canter. He was on the muscle, already asking for more but she didn’t yield until he seemed to settle at which point she let him extend into a proper gallop. 

“Can I ask why you only walked him yesterday? It seems it might account for his excess energy today. I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but I grew up on a track so I’m intrigued by your unusual methods and trying to understand the logic behind them.”

“No offence, but his first day here was a disaster. I had a different rider up, and asked for a gallop to get his legs stretched out and used to the footing. Halfway through he bolted, bucked off his rider ducking out from under him and ran so fast he managed a full mile and a quarter around the track before an outrider could catch him.”

“No offence taken, sounds about par for the course with him since his problems first turned up.”

“Exactly. So rather than end things on a bad note I walked the shedrow with him afterwards which went fine because I wasn’t asking much of him. So the next day - aka yesterday, I had him walk the main track. It doesn’t do much for his physical conditioning or his energy but his issues are psychological in nature. It made more sense to me to try something we already know he’s good at - walking - and get him accustomed in a positive manner to the main track. He’s a very intelligent horse you know, he’s incredibly curious and spends a lot of time observing things, so that was also a factor in my decision, by walking him around he’d get to also explore his new home and satisfy his curiosity.”

Lexa was impressed. Brains, beauty, horse sense. It was a crying shame no one else had given her a chance with high quality bloodstock. Clarke Griffin was full of surprises, but the more she spoke and the more she felt assured her horse was in good hands figuratively as well as literally - a thought that crossed her mind as vivid flashes of the trainer’s hand smoothly working over the horse earlier on crossed her mind. She tried to remain unreadable however and refocused her attention on the racy chestnut colt as he came down the stretch and galloped by the grandstand. She noticed a few people pointing to him likely wondering who he was. She didn’t blame them. He looked impossibly more magnificent as he ran with his flaxen tail streaking behind him like a gold banner and his copper coat still gleaming like new bronze showcasing the chiseled muscles that rippled beneath his skin. A fine piece of horseflesh if there ever were one. When her eyes drifted back to Clarke however, she saw a slight frown creasing the corners of her mouth as she too seemed to notice the attention the colt was getting. 

The trainer picked up her radio to communicate with Octavia.

“He looks good out there. Really good. He’s a little tense still and I can tell he’s really on the muscle and leaning into the bit, but if you can gallop him a few more strides and get him to ease up a little, immediately reward him by letting him really run.” 

“Ok. Do I turn him all out?”

“No. The usual suspects are on to him and the clockers keep glancing at me like they’re expecting a work. Let him run just enough to show _us_ what he’s made of. Let him go in hand, don’t urge him. Try a half mile or 5 furlongs depending on how he’s doing then let him gallop out another.”

“What if he fights me?”

“I trust you, Octa-go.”

“Aw you’re so sweet Clarkie, shall I say I love you?”

“Shut up and ride, bitch.”

“Shut up and clock me!”

“Go!”

Laughter was heard coming out from the other end of the radio before the connection was cut off. Lexa offered a quick smile to Clarke. It was obvious the two were close and she couldn’t help but wonder just how close. It wasn’t her place to pry, and in the moment she didn’t really want to know either, choosing instead to focus on her horse’s progress. 

“I have a theory about your colt, Lexa.”

Now was not the time to think about how nice her name sounded wrapped in this woman’s voice. Trying to move her mind away from it, she prodded.

“About his difficulties?”

“Yes… Today’s exercise and the upcoming work should give me a clearer picture. You say you grew up on a track, mind helping me clock him?”

“Not at all.”

She pulled out her phone and got the stopwatch ready, shivering slightly in anticipation. She was nervous truth be told, even if Clarke didn’t seem to be the type to give up on a horse after only three days, if they couldn’t even get him to work properly, how would they get him into the starting gate for a race?

“There he goes…”

Honestly this horse was tireless. Sure skipping a maintenance gallop probably hadn’t helped but in total the horse had covered 3 miles so far today already at a walk, trot and gallop and he still had enough left in the tank to ask for his head. Fortunately Octavia had sat patiently trying to remain as calm as possible and relax, hoping the colt would pick up on her vibes. It worked and the moment he let up the tension on the reins, lightly chewing at the bit she let her hands slide further up his neck allowing him to lengthen his stride. He stole her breath away as he took off in the blink of an eye. He was incredibly fast and the amount of power and energy he still had resonated within her bones, thrilling her with a sensation she had never experienced before. Her heart pounded in her chest as the chestnut colt carried them across the track, eating up the ground with his smooth, biomechanically perfect stride. His stride was so even in fact, were it not for the wind viciously whipping her face she’d have no idea exactly how fast they were going. Shit. If this was what he was capable of while still being held back, she’d piss herself in excitement just thinking of what he would be like all out.

As tempting as it was though, she kept him in hand for now grabbing his mane as he came out of the turn and headed down the back stretch. She watched for half mile pole, preparing to ease up although he had plenty of energy to make it a 5 furlong work. They sailed through it and she prepared to ease him up after a gallop. Further ahead however, she could see another horse working out and Damocles seemed to spot the other animal as well, his ears pricking forward. She felt him shift underneath him as he switched gears, asking for his head. She held fast, in spite of which he picked up speed closing the gap between them. 15 lengths… 9 lengths, 3 lengths… The rider on the other horse turned around watching them arrive and asked more from his horse not wanting to get outrun. As the pair caught up to them about a length back, Octavia couldn’t help but grin. 

“Sup Julio? When are you going to work your horse?”

In response he reached back and gave his horse a tap with his crop over the saddle cloth asking for more. Which he might have gotten were it not for the fact Damocles suddenly reached over, biting the man’s wrist and brutally pulling him out of the saddle. He let out a shout of pain and fear, and Octavia gripped the mane tighter, suddenly pulling her colt’s head to the side, distracting him and forcing him to veer out to the side and away, wanting to avoid a potentially disastrous accident. The chestnut slowed down just as an outrider zoomed past them to catch the other, now riderless horse and Octavia looked over her shoulder to see Julio getting back up, obviously none the worse for wear aside maybe from the string of Spanish curses thrown in her general direction. The colt was wired, flames in his eyes as if he were ready for more, but Octavia kept him at a jog, easing him up just as her walkie-talkie crackled to life.

“H o l y Fuck! Did you see that? He moves like a freaking Bugatti! How’d we do boss?”

“You mean before he savaged that other rider?”

“Well at least we know he’s not going to back down from a fight. Julio is fine he got up right after.”

“Yeah but what the hell happened?”

“I am not sure. Colt grabbed his wrist right as he… Shit. I think it was the whip. He went for it right after Julio used it to urge that lumbering oaf of a horse he was riding. I couldn’t believe how quick Damocles caught up to him.”

“About that, he clocked :46 seconds and change for the half mile and :57 4/5th for 5 furlongs. I told you to keep him in hand.”

“Are you kidding me Griffin? Those times are unreal! I _did_ keep him in hand! That was all him, coach.”

“I didn’t even time the gallop out because he started eating up the ground as soon as he saw that other horse. His action is so smooth you really don’t think he’s going that fast, I thought I made a mistake when I saw the times at first but Lexa got the same as I did. 

“Well now we know why this boy thinks he’s the shit. He knows it. He’s the best horse I’ve ever sat on.” 

“Doesn’t matter that he can run like that if he can’t tolerate other riders around him though. But the good news is, I think you may be right about the stick. I’ve got another theory as well so… if we can work this out, it looks like we have ourselves a race horse, Blake. Meet you back at the barn.”

Clarke looked up at Lexa, shutting the walkie talkie off for now. 

“We gotta go meet them back at the barn, but might I ask you out to breakfast? We’ve got _a lot_ to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for chapter one! I know it is an unusual fic topic, but I hope you will enjoy it and be intrigued enough to follow it. If you are, tune in for next chapter where Lexa and Clarke will have more alone time to talk (strictly professional though, as you can tell already Lexa is very very professional. Very.)
> 
> Glossary of terms:  
> Colt: ungelded, young male horse (under the age of 4 or 5)
> 
> Bloodstock: general term for thoroughbred horses used for racing and breeding, generally in reference to quality pedigrees. i.e. a thoroughbred auction is known as a bloodstock auction.
> 
> Furlong: Unit to measure distance. A mile is 8F.
> 
> On the muscle: an expression used to indicate a horse is extremely keen during a work out and trying to force the rider to let him run faster/harder.
> 
> Chestnut: a red-based horse colour. Damocles has a flaxen (aka blonde) mane and tail. Google image search "donegal moon" to see a horse with his colouring.
> 
> Outrider: if you ever watch a race or go to the track you'll notice some additional riders besides the jockeys and race horses. They're there to lead horses out to the starting gate during a race, and there to lead them back to the barn after it. They're also there to chase after and catch any loose horses that may've lost their rider and make sure no one (including the horse themselves!) gets hurt.
> 
> If you have any other questions don't hesitate to ask!


	2. Tightening the Girth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke discuss Damocles's future... but meanwhile the present demands to be dealt with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll of inspiration. Didn't expect this chapter to be finished so quickly but here it is! This is a more heavily human-centric chapter so I didn't go over the origins of Damocles's issue with the stick, but Clarke will find the answer to that soon. I also forgot to mention in my first chapter's notes that all the tracks I reference really exist so you can easily google them if you're wondering about them. As usual a glossary of terms at the bottom.

“I know this isn’t the fanciest place, but it’s cozy. And you won’t find any other place this close to the track that makes a better breakfast.”

“If you say this is the best breakfast around, I’d be offended if you took me anywhere else, no matter how ‘fancy’ it were.”

Lexa reclined against the booth of the diner as she picked up the menu browsing the items on it before glancing up at Clarke. There she was again with that thoughtful look of hers etched over her features in a way Lexa found oddly moving. There was something so pure about Clarke’s dedication to her horse, it was hard to believe that she wasn’t at the top of trainer recommendations. She quickly dropped her gaze back to her menu as the other woman brought her eyes back level with her face, not wanting to be caught staring. The waitress provided a perfect distraction as she brought over some coffee.

“Let me know when you ladies are ready to order. We got a fresh batch of fruit this morning so the fruit plate is half off, by the way.”

“Thanks, Harper.”

“It’s good to see you Clarke… You’ll have to introduce me to your new ‘friend’. She’s pretty.”

Clarke’s neck turned scarlet and she choked on the first sip of coffee as she had brought the cup to her lips. Regaining her composure, she quickly clarified.

“Lexa is the owner of my newest trainee.”

The owner in question had promptly hidden her face behind the menu not wanting either woman to notice the rosy glow tinting her cheekbones. She took a few seconds to still herself, not having seen Clarke’s reaction but having heard the stammer in her voice as well as the coughing.

“Oh well then, thanks for believing in my girl!”

Lexa slowly lowered the menu to glance at Harper, figuring it would be rude not to do so when she was being directly addressed. There were a hundred ways to answer that comment, and for half an instant she considered the best way to remain polite while also moving on. She was hungry, and she was anxious to hear what her new trainer had to say about this morning’s work.

“I flew out here to watch how she does, and so far I like what I see. I think she may be just what I’ve been looking for.”

“Good! What’s your horse’s name? I’ll keep an eye out for him at the races.”

“Sword of Damocles.”

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to your menus, holler at me when you’re ready to order!”

The waitress turned heel and went back to her post as Clarke threw Lexa and apologetic look, her fingertips toying with the edge of her menu. Southern California was pretty liberal but in general racing, especially where owners were concerned, still had some hangups. Whether it was about tradition and decorum or conservatism. Besides, regardless of context or industry, Clarke being a fairly private person hadn’t planned on being outed to her boss and exposing her dating life on their first day meeting.

“I’m sorry about that I hope she didn’t offend-“

“Offended? Why should I be offended?”

Lexa was gazing intently at Clarke, expectantly, as if silently challenging her to explain. If anything she was more offended at the notion of her thinking she would be offended. She abhorred prejudice in all its forms, and while she understood the challenges of working in the thoroughbred industry, she was hardly a typical horse owner, simply by virtue of her age. Not to mention how she got there - but that was not something Clarke could possibly know. She also could not possibly be aware of the fact that Lexa had pretty much always known she liked girls and began identifying as a lesbian as soon as she knew the word. 

“I- it’s just… women aren’t taken seriously in our sport, the assumption that we aren’t in a working relationship could offend some. Especially since you’re technically my boss.”

Nice save. 

“Don’t worry about it, even if we are here to talk business, it _is_ a casual setting and it’s easy to see how it could be misconstrued. No offence taken.”

Clarke all but let out a sigh of relief, though she was admittedly intrigued by Lexa’s reaction. She realized how ridiculous it was now to assume she might be offended - they were both around the same age and it was pretty clear her main priority was whether or not she could fix her horse’s issues. It also wasn’t in her habit to care about what other people thought of her dating life yet for some reason she had a feeling she’d be disappointed if Lexa didn’t like her as a person.

“So, about your colt. I’m fairly certain Octavia is right about him reacting to the whip. But I think it is also to do with his personality. He’s not only intelligent, he’s sensitive and proud to the point of being obstinate.”

There was that look again. Lexa suppressed a smile. Clarke’s lack of success in racing to date certainly was not due to a lack of passion. She got a spark in her eye whenever she began talking about the horses or was focused on her work, and each time she did, Lexa’s confidence in her and their chances of succeeding grew.

“Remember how Octavia mentioned she got him to do her bidding by making him think it was his own idea? She didn’t exactly know it but she landed on one of the key solutions.”

“So how does the whip factor in?”

“My best guess: it’s probably to do with the fact it was used to demand something out of him, in a way he didn’t like. Or he had a bad experience. I wouldn’t normally ask this, but do you think you could put me in touch with his first trainer?” 

That information was all public domain, but Clarke knew it could be a very delicate thing to call up a horse’s prior trainer. Whether it was because a trainer had pulled a horse from someone - thereby judging them to be incompetent and losing them a client, or in this case, because the original trainer could not yield anything more from the horse, the ego involved could be a huge sore spot. In some cases it was also just a plain old case of professional secret, not everyone was willing to share their techniques for fear of being outclassed. Perhaps if Lexa played the intermediate here, Damocles’s first trainer might be a little more open to discussing the colt. 

“I’ll get him to email you. He kinda owes me, he’s the one who quit on me, I didn’t pull my horse from his barn.”

“Thanks. I still have more to talk about but I’m starving, are you ready to order?”

Truth be told Lexa had stopped reading the menu since she’d been hanging on Clarke’s every word. Not that she’d given up on her horse per se, but for the first time in a very long time she was cautiously optimistic, and it wouldn’t have been a stretch to say she not only had a little hope, she actually _felt_ it too. Not wanting to prolong the other woman’s starvation though, she nodded.

“I was thinking the fruit platter - without honeydew. And the Avocado eggs.”

“Hey what do you have against honeydew?”

The protest was playful, and Lexa responded in kind, deadpanning right back at her.

“Miss Griffin I thought we could be friends but if you love honeydew melon I’m afraid I’ll have to keep our relationship strictly professional… actually no, I don’t know if I even want my horse to be trained by someone who advocates for such an abomination!”

Clarke burst out laughing at that and shook her head gesturing with her hands as if capitulating.

“No, no anything but that! I don’t like Honeydew either! Just never thought it could be the source of… professional tensions.”

“It’s the shame of the melon family, it shouldn’t even be a fruit.”

“It’s a pretty word though, I don’t know why they wasted it on that.”

The two women smiled at each other, chuckling slightly. It was nice, Lexa thought, to have found a trainer she could get along with so well. The more she thought about it and the more she’d realized she hadn’t had that kind of relationship with a horse trainer since she’d become an owner. The last time had been when she was still just working at the track and hanging out with other workers or the old timer handicappers. Granted she had to admit having grown up on an East Coast track, she had a tendency to favour tradition. Her colt had made his debut at Saratoga Racetrack, the oldest track in the nation, second only to Churchill Downs in fame, and second to none in beauty. Of course she would have rather have had her colt continue on his winning streak, and go to the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile championship race, but in racing there was no sure thing… and maybe fate had laid a hand here for a reason.

She watched as Clarke hailed over Harper again, and they both gave her their respective orders, conversation shifting right back to business thereafter.

“Listen Clarke… there’s something you need to know. Damocles has been nominated to the Triple Crown.”

Clarke looked at her and remained quiet for a moment, a serious, almost grave expression on her face. Lexa didn’t need to actually say it in so many words for her to know what she was asking. A part of her wanted to tell her to forget about it for now, that they’d be under the stress of deadlines and time constraints and that it’d be beneficial to the colt if they just took it one day at a time. She understood Lexa probably had plans for him, but before Clarke could even consider mapping out a campaign for Damocles, she needed to first find a fix for the issue. Just because she currently had an idea - and likely had put her finger on the problem, didn’t mean her first solutions would work out.

“He’s got the talent to compete in the Kentucky Derby and he has the pedigree to go the distance but… I’m concerned about his level of fitness. He’s at a disadvantage not having had regular intervals with proper workouts. His peers have already started running this month in prep races to earn points in order to qualify for the Derby…”

“He already has 10 points from his win in the Iroquois last year.”

“True but we have no idea how and if he’s progressed compared to his 2 year old form, especially in relation to other colts his age.”

“Look if it makes any difference… I’d like to run him out East. I know the California prep circuit has grown highly competitive and highly coveted in the last couple of years.”

“I mean no disrespect, but I’d rather not ship him out for his first race back. We’re here at Santa Anita, and I’m trying to get him to mentally settle. We’re fighting an uphill battle and I’m not sure this is the hill I want to die on. We gotta consider earning enough points to even get in the Derby gate which might mean a heavy racing schedule at which point would he even still have enough in the tank left to win the Derby?”

“He only needs one more maybe two more prep wins to guarantee a spot in the gate.”

“I don’t doubt that you may have the best 3 year old colt in America, Lexa. I think he has the ability to win anything he’s pointed at. But this is racing, you know as well as I do that anything can happen. What if he doesn’t win his one or two preps? Do we keep running him to get him more points or do we wait and hope he has just enough to land in the gate?”

“You don’t know me yet but let me tell you that I love this horse. I love horses in general and I will always advocate for putting them first. I’m glad to hear you defend his interests. But there’s a lot at stake, I’m not like the big money owners who can afford to buy quality Bloodstock or yearlings with mid-six figure price tags, several times a year. Yes my goal is to build up and eventually get there, but even with all the money in the world I may never get another horse this good. I got lucky with him in more ways than one. I trust you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him and I’m sure you wouldn’t throw anything at him he can’t handle. But you’re a smart woman and I know you have the training ability. We don’t need to actually aim for the Derby, but will you at least keep the Classics in mind?”

She stayed quiet. The truth was that Clarke knew very well what it would mean if she could get this colt on the Triple Crown trail. But that was part of her anxiety. If she squandered this opportunity she may never get a graded stakes caliber horse again, let alone one good enough to dream of the American Classics. Even if no one gave her horses right away, her share of the winnings would be enough for her to purchase better horses and train them herself. She wanted to dare to dream right along with Lexa but she didn’t want to ruin the horse in attempt to get him on the Triple Crown trail. There were other important races for 3 year olds later on in the year, and if he did well enough he could eventually compete in open company against older males and perhaps even aim for the Breeders’ Cup Classic at the end of the year. She let out a sigh, just as Harper brought over their food, and she popped a grape into her mouth, purposefully avoiding Lexa’s gaze. She was a professional but that didn’t mean she hadn’t noticed her new boss’s striking eyes, to which she may not remain indifferent.

“If you had to choose just one of the three triple crown races, which would you prefer?”

Lexa was slightly taken aback by the question, but was intrigued by the angle.

“That’s an interesting question. I’m originally from DC but spent most of my life in Baltimore, so it would mean the world to win the Preakness Stakes at my home track in front of my home crowd. So maybe from an emotional point of view my heart race is that one. From a commercial point of view… I know the Derby is the richest of the three and it’s the one prospective stud farms look to the most. Everyone dreams of the run for the roses. It’s the one even non horse people in America watch, talk shows go on about it, gossip columns and tabloids look to the fashion around it. Derby fever sweeps across the nation. What about you?”

Clarke had been listening intently though it was her turn to be surprised when the other woman threw back her own question. She smirked however as she offered her answer.

“Call me old-fashioned but I like the third jewel of the crown. The Belmont Stakes is the test of the Champion for a reason and it takes not just speed and stamina but also heart for a horse to win it, especially if they’ve already run in the first two legs. We all dream of the Derby, I think we agree on that, but I’d like to see a resurgence of the real distance horse in America.”

Taking a forkful of egg and avocado in her mouth, Lexa thought about Clarke’s words. It was easy to hear it in the tone of her voice - she too had big dreams and great ambitions. But she understood her hesitations, her fear. Yet this was not a sport for the faint of heart and while she’d always tried to play it smart, to strategize to climb the ladder, she had deviated from her plan and was now in a position where taking risks may be the only way to break even. 

“Fine. But we take it one race at a time. If he has enough points for the Derby by the end of March I’ll consider it, but if not we’ll look ahead, whether that’s to the other two, or the Summer races. ” 

“Thank you, this means-“

“No need to thank me, and no time to get sentimental. We need to get to work swiftly. I have a race in mind for his first back. Do you trust me?”

“Completely.” 

“Good. Guess we’ll find out if I’m any good at this horse training thing in two weeks time.”

“You may amuse me yet, Miss Griffin.”

“I’m serious about putting you on my resumé if my current career flops.”

———

As soon as her plane had landed in New York and she’d stepped outside, Lexa regretted leaving California instantly. Cold, damp, grey. She missed the gentle embrace of the Southwestern January sun, but with a sigh she conceded that in a sense it was a call back to reality. She had paperwork to fill out and finances to juggle, as soon as Clarke would send her the information. She also needed to get in touch with Derek Sehmet her first trainer to get him to talk to Clarke. Her trip had been a success for the most part, better than she’d even allowed herself to hope, but it was far too early to determine if she were out of the woods yet. She’d have to pay Indra’s commission, and while Clarke had allowed her a grace period - a trial period, she’d called it - starting next week she’d be monthly if not weekly for the horse’s upkeep. As a matter of fact she’d have to look over the contract again and see if the best possible arrangement was negotiated. Indra was usually trustworthy in that regards, but what might have worked for her lower level prior horses, might not be the most economical or beneficial with Damocles. 

She sank into her favourite armchair as soon as she walked into her home glancing up at the tv. She didn’t particularly feel like tackling her financial stuff right away so she pulled out her phone, launching the streaming device connected to her television and went to her saved videos, going to the replays of her horse’s first two races. It didn’t matter how many times she’d seen them, as an owner, she relived the excitement and the emotion every time. She knew the race calls by heart now, but that did not take away from her enjoyment. It had been a ballsy move of her old trainer to enter him into a graded stakes race off only a single start, but at the same time he had won it in style. “ _Coming into the turn it’s McMac still leading and right in behind him the favourite Battle Tactic- and my goodness! Sword of Damocles bursts in from behind them and takes flight! He’s ahead of them by two lengths now, while the rest of the riders ask their mounts to wake up, but at the top of the stretch it’s still Sword of Damocles by 5! Sword of Damocles by 8! He’s in full flight now Sword of Damocles is ahead by 12! And Battle Tactic tries to rally but there’s just no hope as the Sword of Damocles slices the favourite’s dream by 18 lengths at the wire. Battle Tactic was second and 5 length back a photo finish for third._ ” 

It always left her a little breathless and grinning ear to ear to see that. She remembered clearly that day, she had almost cried in disbelief. He had confirmed what she felt, what she knew from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. But between the moment she bought him, and that moment he crossed the finish line, there had been many a sleepless night of self-doubt at having deviated from her own plan. It was strange there too, how fate seemed to have intended something specific. The only reason she had been able to afford him - in spite of already going over budget for him, and bidding on a colt rather than a filly as she had originally planned, was because he’d bumped his knee right before the auction and the blemish though vetted as fine, had scared off most of the other potential buyers, who likely capped their highest bid for him lower than they normally would have. 

Just as she was launching the next video however, her reminiscing was interrupted by her phone ringing. Her brows knit when she didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, and she paused her viewing to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello Miss Woods. I’m calling from the Eclipse organizational committee. While you RSVP’d as soon as your horse was shortlisted for the nominations, the Awards dinner is in two days at Gulfstream Park and we haven’t received confirmation. Are you still available to attend with your plus one?” 

Wow. What an idiot she was! The Eclipse Awards had completely slipped her mind, much less the fact Sword of Damocles had in fact been nominated and even shortlisted. He had fallen off the radar after his issues began and Eclipse talk had eluded her since then. She was at this point completely unprepared but she realized how bad it would look in the eyes of the industry if she did not show up. Not to mentioned it could easily be misunderstood as an unsportsmanlike gesture. 

“’Miss Woods, are you still with me?”

“Yes sorry, absolutely. I’ll be there.”

“Excellent, you will be provided additional information about the dinner as well as accommodations. We look forward to having you amongst us at the Eclipse Awards. Best of luck.” 

“Thank you, have a wonderful evening, sir.”

The phone dropped in her lap as soon as the call ended and Lexa sat there paralyzed in a deer in the headlights moment. What on Earth had she just done? A plus one? She wasn’t sure if she even had appropriate evening wear for this sort of black tie affair. She glanced up at the paused video on her screen. No time to walk down memory lane now, she had to get moving moving, post-haste!

——— 

The afternoon races were in full swing now and Clarke was watching from her usual seat in the grand stand. There weren’t any major stakes races, but there were a few claiming races on the card to consider maybe claiming a horse from, as well as a few races for 3 year olds some of which she knew included horses that had dreams for the Derby trail. No time like the present to scope out the competition. It was also the perfect place to hide from the media. Racing Twitter was already abuzz with Damocles’s work from this morning, which she knew would happen and had been part of the reason she’d asked Octavia to work the colt in hand and try to hold him back. The last thing she wanted at this point in time was scrutiny and attention. Oh and the whole, grabbing a rider by the wrist and nearly trampling him thing was not exactly helping either. Journalists were trying to track her down, most of them probably not having even heard of her before, or only vaguely recollected being introduced. The only upside to relative anonymity in racing is that none of them had managed to lay a hand on her personal phone number yet.

She turned her head away from the jumbotron when she felt a presence slide into the seat beside her. Bracing herself for a confrontation she didn’t want, she sighed in relief when she realized it was only Octavia.

“Oh Octavia there you are.”

“Yeah, couldn’t find a mount for the next two races.”

“Sorry to hear that but I need to talk to you.”

“For the last time Clarke, I’m not going out on a date with you!”

“Shut up, I’m totally your type and you would in fact date me if I asked you out.”

“You’ve never asked me so you don’t know that.”

Octavia flashed her a wicked grin and Clarke rolled her eyes but cracked a smile. As usual their silly banter lifted a weight from her shoulders, no matter how somber their situation might be, and she hoped once again that it would help balm over the bit of bad news she had. Not that she didn’t also have good news, or at least news her best rider would be excited about, after her talk with Lexa this morning, but those were less pressing and immediate. 

“We’ve only got two horses left. Bellamy’s owners decided to retire him today. Trailer picks him up tomorrow.”

“Damn with the face you were making for a moment I thought something bad had happened. That surly old brown son of a gun couldn’t run a lick anymore, we both know it. I bet _I_ could run faster than him now, it was about time.” 

She knew that losing a horse meant losing income, both in upkeep and training fees as well as potential race winnings. But she didn’t want Clarke to worry, and didn’t want her to feel bad or leave her under the impression that it was somehow their fault, and that it was their failure. She knew how hard she worked and she believed in her. Besides she wasn’t about to let her lose sleep over that old nag Bellamy, when they had a potential super horse in their stable.

“I know, I know. It’s just that it doesn’t exactly make things easier on either of us.”

“Clarke stop worrying so much. We’ve got Damocles, it doesn’t matter if we end up with only one horse so long as it is him. We’re finally gonna go places with this kid.”

“If Damocles doesn’t make any money in his first race you can sleep in Bellamy’s old stall when you can’t make rent next month.” 

“I’d rather stay with you, your good cleavage provides the right amount of cushioning I need for my beauty sleep.”

“Why do I care about you, again?”

“Because I’m amazing.” 

“Ridiculous, more like.”

Clarke buried her face into her palm in attempt to hide her amusement, but failed, unable to completely wipe the smile off her lips. 

“Actually about that super horse, I’ve got some news-“

She interrupted herself as her phone began vibrating in her back pocket, causing her to frown and reach around to pull it out. For a moment she dreaded one of the journalists from Blood-horse or the Daily Racing Form or whoever had caught onto her, but she was surprised when the name Lexa Woods flashed across her screen. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Clarke? Are you busy right now?”

“Not so much that I can’t take a call. What’s up?”

“Are you busy Saturday night?”

“Um no… but-“

“How do you feel about evening wear?”

“What?”

“I forgot Damocles was nominated for the Champion 2 year old colt Eclipse, which means I have to show up at the Award dinner. He’s probably not going to win it but you’re his new trainer… you should be there. Are you game?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Clarke say yes to Lexa's invitation? Things could get interesting if they attend the Eclipse Awards together...  
> As usual if you have any questions about anything do not hesitate to leave a comment and ask. Thank you for reading, I hope you're still enjoying it so far.
> 
> Glossary:  
> Eclipse Awards - the Eclipse Awards are the yearly American racing awards given out to horses, owners, jockeys and trainers. They're usually attributed late January for the preceding season. There are several categories based on the divisions horses run in - Champion 2 year old male/female, Champion 3 year old male/female, Champion Older male/female, Champion Sprinter and I believe they now have both Male and Female for Champion Turf horse. The ultimate prize is Horse of the Year. In Canada they are called the Sovereign awards which I believe are given in the spring and in Europe they're called the Cartier Awards, usually attributed at the end of the year. These awards are important because they tend to add a lot of value to the winner but also increases the value of horse's parentage. So the stallion who sired the winner might be able to command a higher stud fee for the following breeding season, and the mare who foaled the winner might have higher-selling offspring. Also horses who've won Awards are likelier to get into the racing hall of fame later on in their life. In short it's a big deal.
> 
> Racing levels:  
> Alright here's where the learning curve might get a little steeper. There are different levels in racing which determine value and difficulty, as well as divisional differences. I'm not going to get into all of them right now just give you a brief understanding.
> 
> Maiden - A 'maiden' is a horse who has never won a race. A Maiden race (of which there are several kinds) is a race for horses who are therefore still Maidens and have never won. Most horses start out in Maiden Special Weight races shortened as MSW.
> 
> Claimer - A claiming race is a very low level race in which horses can be claimed for a price. So say you enter your horse in a 5000$ claimer. Anyone can go to the racing offices, pay 5000$ for the horse of their choosing (if available) and in effect buy the horse. These races are often cheap, and the people who run their horses in it either don't have the money to afford Allowance races or don't mind losing their horse to someone else. 
> 
> Allowance - an Allowance race can have an optional claiming or not. It's a good option when you have a blue-collar type horse who can win and earn money at the lower levels but whom you don't want to risk being taken from you. It can also be a good spot for higher level horses after an injury or to rebuild their confidence.
> 
> Stakes - here's where things get real. A Stakes race generally offers larger purses and counts more towards increasing a horse's value. These tend to be restricted to a certain age or gender group, but your company is already more competitive than at the previous levels.
> 
> Listed Stakes - the lowest of the high-level races. Listed Stakes give the horse a chance to earn 'Blacktype' money which increases their breeding value and the value of their pedigree. All other levels above Listed also are Blacktype.
> 
> Graded Stakes - the highest level of the sport, with the toughest races against the fiercest opponents and the biggest purses. There are three levels, G3, G2 and the holy grail G1. These are the most important races around the world. If you can get a colt to win a G1 let alone multiple G1s and multiple graded stakes you've secured him a future as a stallion. For a filly even being graded stakes placed boosts her resell and broodmare value.
> 
> Classics - Each country has their set of 'classic' races, of which their respective Triple Crowns are often composed of. In America the Classics are the Triple Crown races - the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes and the Belmont Stakes in that order. All are restricted to 3 year olds and are G1s, which offer 1.5 million$ Purses for the latter two and 2 million$ for the Derby. Other notable 'honorary' Classics in the US are the Travers Stakes (also for 2 yos) and the Breeders' Cup Classic the richest dirt race in America and the star of the year end Championship races. That one is open to horses 3 and Up.
> 
> To qualify for the Derby they currently have a points system put in place. You earn points by running in races selected by the Derby committee. The Preakness and Belmont don't have such a system though so even if your horse didn't qualify for the Derby you could potentially run them in the other two.
> 
> I think that covers everything important in this chapter, if I've missed anything let me know.


End file.
